


Walk Home

by gloss



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, Post-War, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Shara comes home from work.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Shara Bey/Kes Dameron
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27
Collections: Party in the GFFA: Star Wars Flash Exchange 2020





	Walk Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SassySnowperson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassySnowperson/gifts).



The space port is deserted; it isn't morning yet, but it hasn't been night for an hour or so. After unloading the freighter and filing all her paperwork, Shara is tired enough that she seriously considers springing for a jitney ride back to the settlement. She cannot justify the expense, however, especially when this freight run might well have been her last for a while. L'ulo says there's nothing to be done; no one's paying to haul goods that aren't needed. 

"Patience, little sister," he tells her. 

She knows that he means well. She knows that he's right. The simplicity of the advice irritates her nonetheless. Faking a smile, she nods and hoists her bag to her shoulder. "Working on it."

She hikes the four kilometers home in the morning drizzle. Yavin wakes up slowly, luxuriating in its warmth. Somehow, it grows greener and lusher yet as the mist burns off. As she walks, she works through lists of her various commitments and obligations, sorting out priorities and pressures. There isn't much, unfortunately, that can be set aside: co-op dues are expected at the end of the quarter and Poe is growing out of his current set of clothes. He'll probably need new just as the hot season hits. Then there are the smaller bills that never seem to reduce, only accumulate. Their pensions don't cover quite enough. Nor do those pensions pay out on a dependable schedule.

She tries, again, for patience and understanding. Expecting a pension is a privilege, she knows that. Far more pressing issues demand the new republic's limited funds.

At the top of the hill, she slides her bag off her shoulder into her hand. Below her, the western quarter of the co-op peeks up through the jungle in small tilled patches and low, shabby buildings. Their own house is just off to the left, around a curve in the trail. Their cultivated sections are rounder, more organic, than their neighbors'. Cassian and Kes rarely agree on anything, but the superiority of Atrivian agricultural methods is an exception. That, and the indisputable superiority of fermented koyo punch. Shara prefers Corellian ale, even an Old Alderaan yeast porter. She has no opinion on tillage.

She grew up on one of the watery moons in the Corellian system, while Kes hails from one of the backwaters in Atravis. Cassian never got a stable childhood home, but enough Atrivian relatives passed him around over the years that the system is listed as his home. When the war wound down — it never ended — and it came time to consider civilian life, it was Cassian's idea to return to Yavin-4.

He's as sentimental as anyone else; he just never trusted himself enough to acknowledge that fact.

The war isn't over. Day by day, month by month, she's coming to understand that it will never be over. But it has retreated, significantly far, an angry sea now ebbed out of sight. Where it had been the sand is pleated up and weeds go dry in the air.

From up here, their spiraling planted lots resemble a child's game, something simple to occupy a rainy afternoon, or a tempting path laid by Nightsister to lure children into the shadows. Shara takes the descent at a jog, suddenly relieved and excited to be so close to home. Her frustration, the drag of worries, follow her down the hill, but they don't quite catch up.

She drops her bag on the open porch that runs the length of their house and, breathless, take a minute to untie her hair and wipe her face. 

She finds her family at the far end of the yard, right where the jungle licks into the clearing. Just past the uneti tree, Poe is intent on a jumble of mechanical parts spread out on canvas, while Cassian leans on a shovel pushed into the ground. One leg is crossed over the other as he supervises Kes turning soil.

Cassian no longer startles when approached from behind or the right. That change is as precious, even portentous, as the little marks tracking Poe's height just inside the entrance to the house. There was a time when Shara would have planned her arrival in order to come up on Cassian's good side. Now, however, she can step up behind him and wrap her arms around his waist, planting her chin on his sweaty shoulder and asking, "How'd you get him to do all the work?"

He kisses her temple and leans back into her embrace. "Bet him that he couldn't clear the bed before lunch."

Kes is stripped to the waist, brown as jungle nut in the light, working the tiller. He's a big man, broad across the shoulders and long-waisted: powerful to look at, however silly and gentle he actually is in person. She hopes Poe inherits Kes's strength and height; the kid got her unruly hair as well as her temper, so it would only be fair to balance those out.

Poe already has Cassian's fondness for droids and sneaking around.

She waves to Poe, but he's too absorbed in his task to notice. He's past due for haircut; the frizz blossoms around his face like a weed gone to seed. When he kneels and reaches for a tool, his little singlet rides up past his waist. He does need new clothes, it's obvious.

Turning back to Kes, she whistles when he bends over to loosen a rock. His ass is sculptural in his old breeches, both blocky and full, while the muscles in his back work like wings beneath his sweat-shining skin. He wiggles his ass in response and throws a kiss over one shoulder.

"Show-off," Cassian calls and Kes, wiggling some more, throws him a kiss, too.

"Thank the stars he is," Shara says. 

Nodding, Cassian covers one of her arms with his own. "He's got it and flaunts it, but we reap the benefits."

There are several moments that Shara will never forget. She needs to remember them; she makes sure to keep them clear. Poe's hug when they made it home after Endor. The first time she saw Kes, dancing at a mixer and, later, making out with Cassian. The red-flayed mess that was Cassian when she evacuated him off Scarif is one of those. He didn't breathe so much as leak and wheeze. She only knew him from the tattoo on the inside of one wrist, the wrist of the hand caught beneath him in the blast. She grasps that wrist now and rubs her thumb over the pulse point and the ink.

It was a meaningless tattoo, something he'd picked up while undercover in an Imperial penitentiary. He claimed, sometimes, that it was part of the elaborate Gamorrean prison hieroglyphic code, though the meaning he ascribed to it shifted with each telling. Other times he swore to Poe that it was a birthmark.

"Hey, lady," Kes says when he has finished the bed. He enfolds the two of them in his arms to kiss her. He stinks of exertion and his skin is hot, his beard thick against her mouth. She kisses him back, tongue and nipping teeth. A familiar surge of desire flashes from her mouth down between her legs. Cassian twists between them, fitting into the crook of her elbow.

"You're so gross!" Poe yells. Of course now would be when he deigns to acknowledge her return. "Stop it or I'm gonna puke! All over you!"

Kes laughs a little at that, but Cassian unhinges their embrace and he steps back. "He will, though."

Poe runs at them full-tilt, and crashes against Shara's legs. She lifts him up, swinging him against the sky, as he hollers.


End file.
